revisers is their rendering of St. Mark's Gospel, chap. vii. 26, where they have left the Authorised Version unrevised, and have rendered "now the woman was a Greek, a Syrophoenician by race," which is simply a contradiction in terms, for if the woman were a Greek, then she was not a Syrophoenician, and vice versâ. Here the word rendered "Greek" should have been rendered "Gentile," as is elsewhere done by the revisers, and this would have turned nonsense into sense. The older translators were much wiser in their generation, for Wicliff rendered the word by "Heathen," and even the generally inaccurate Rheims version gives us "Gentile." If the aim of the revisers was to place before the mind of English readers all that the Greek expressed, neither more nor less, it is difficult to understand the silent contempt with which they have treated so many of the Greek prepositions, especially in composition, and the Greek diminutives, as well as the collocation of the Greek words. Here is a sample of the treatment complained of: in St. Matt. i. 20, 21, the Greek compound verb is simply rendered "take" by the revisers, who would have done it more justice by rendering it "take to thy side," for here the word is technical, and marks a matrimonial usage. The same Greek preposition is frequently ignored alike by the Authorised Version and the revisers, even where the full point and precision of the sentence seem to turn on it; as, for example, at St. Matt. xxvi. 53, the revisers give us : "Or thinkest thou that I cannot beseech my Father, and he shall send me more than twelve legions of angels?" where the Greek means, "Thinkest thou that I cannot call my Father to my side, and he shall place by my side more than twelve legions of angels?" The two compound verbs here are both technical military terms; the former, parakalesai, implies summoning to one's side as an ally; and the second, parastesai, is a military term for drawing up soldiers in close array side by side; and both these terms are in perfect harmony with the military legion, a Roman word for which in English we should employ the term regiment. As a sample of the revisers' comparative neglect of the Greek diminutives we point to St. Matt. xv. 26, "And he answered and said, It is not meet to take the children's bread and to cast it to the dogs," where "little dogs " more satisfies the requirements of the Greek and the context. Here Wicliff and Tyndale and the Anglo-Saxon version give us "whelps," and it is to those earlier versions that Chaucer evidently alludes in his Friar's Tale Thinke one the woman Canaan that said That whelpes eate some of the crumbes alle It would, as a rule, be a dangerous innovation for any translator to reproduce in his version the order of the original words in every instance, if this were possible; but it certainly becomes an imperative duty to respect the order of the original when in the language from which he translates a word is placed first for special emphasis, and the language into which he translates easily admits of giving the same word the same prominent position to which it is entitled "Ordo verborum," writes St. Augustine, "est sacramentum." At St. Luke xxii. 49, the writer places the Greek word for a kiss first in the sentence, to call special attention to it, and to connect it more closely with the previous sentence. Here the revisers render, "Judas, betrayest thou the Son of man with a kiss?" whereas the Greek order demands, "Is it with a kiss, Judas, thou betrayest the Son of man ?" for this brings the question of our Lord more in harmony with what went immediately before," He drew near unto Jesus to kiss him." In St. John xviii. 36 the revisers seem equally blind to the emphatic order of the Greek, and give us, " My kingdom is not of this world: if my kingdom were of this world, then would my servants fight," where the Greek order runs, "My kingdom is not of this world, for if of this world were my kingdom," where the reversed order is adopted for emphasis. It is further a matter of regret that the revisers almost uniformly reject the usage of the Greek emphatic article, which so often sharpens the point, and clothes with beauty the terms to which it is applied. Thus, for example, in St. John's Gospel, our Lord calls himself, not, as the revisers, following the Authorised Version, give it, "the true light," "the true bread," "the good shepherd," "the true vine"; but, as the Greek runs, "the light-the true light," "the bread-the true bread," "the shepherd-the good shepherd," "the vine-the true vine." By some such reproduction in English of this emphatic form in the original the revisers would have done far more justice to the Greek, and brought out more the meaning of the Divine Master without doing any violence to the English language, which admits such emphatic usages—as we find in Shakespeare's "farewell, a long farewell," "a frost, a killing frost"; and in the most powerful passages of our best prose writers, and of our greatest orators-as, for example, in Burke's "the medium, the only medium, for regaining their affection and confidence." T. H. L. LEARY. THE EARL OF ESSEX'S REBELLION. N the death of the Earl of Leicester, the vacancy his departure ΟΝ had created in the ranks of the favourites around the throne was soon filled up. In spite of her intellectual gifts, the firmness and determination of her character, and a repellent hauteur which was due to her Tudor blood, Elizabeth was as susceptible to flattery as if she had been the silliest of her sex. Though now long past the age when woman inspires admiration for her beauty, she loved to be surrounded by courtiers who read sonnets in her praise, who lauded her classic brow and the exquisite regularity of her features, and who paid her the same homage as if she had been not only a reigning queen, but a reigning belle. As time sped on, and made her all the more the wreck of her former self, she became more and more exacting; she hated to hear her gallants express admiration for any woman but herself, or to speak of beauty unless their remarks applied to her, or that they should excite her jealousy by marrying without her approval. A vain, elderly creature, she, who in Council could be so keen and penetrating, would greedily swallow the most fulsome flattery, without observing its inconsistency or the sneer that often lay hid in its words. In spite of failing health and of the reflections from her mirror, she considered herself the loveliest of women, and that all her courtiers were enamoured of her. At this time her special favourite was Robert Devereux, the second Earl of Essex. Young, handsome, a scholar and a poet, with a courage which was noted even in those days, when courage was considered everything, he had all the gifts to seduce the affections of a woman of the temperament of Elizabeth. From the first hour when he had been presented at Court by his stepfather, the favourite Leicester, he had won the regard of the Queen. He was different from the scheming, servile courtiers who surrounded her. Educated at Cambridge and the friend of Burghley, the young man was well read in his sovereign's favourite classics; his conversation had all the charms of culture and yet of originality, and he was of the age when poetry becomes the most fascinating of studies. Elizabeth took no pains to conceal her liking for the boy-earl. He was during the first months of his life at Court her constant companion; he read aloud to her, he composed sonnets to her, and there was that sympathetic relationship between them which often exists between a lad and a woman much older than himself. Like most whose character is naturally domineering, the Queen fully appreciated the cool audacity of the young Earl, who, declining to be intimidated by her presence, offered his opinions and maintained them, in spite of all opposition from her Majesty. Essex was, however, not to pass his youth in the luxurious ease of a Court. Towards the close of the year 1585, he accompanied the Earl of Leicester to Holland, where he so distinguished himself at the battle of Zutphen, that the honour of a KnightBanneret was conferred on him. Returning home, the Queen advanced him to the office of Master of the Horse, though he was then barely twenty years of age; and on the approach of the Armada she created him a general of horse and presented him with the coveted Order of the Garter. These rewards made him all the more eager for further action. He accompanied the expedition of Norris and Drake to Spain, to place Don Antonio on the throne of Portugal, much to the Queen's disgust, who wrote him a sharp letter, bidding him return at once. "Whereof you see you fail not," she said, "as you will be loath to incur our indignation, and will answer for the contrary at your uttermost peril." To this command Essex, with his customary boldness, paid not the slightest attention; yet, on his return, Elizabeth, after a few days of ill-simulated anger, fully pardoned him, and conferred upon him several valuable grants from the Crown. In 1591 the favourite was appointed commanderin-chief of the forces sent into Normandy to assist Henry the Fourth of France in recovering Rouen ; a few years later he was despatched with Lord Howard to Cadiz, to wreck the Spanish fleet and destroy the town, in which expedition he displayed his usual gallantry. On his return he was appointed Master of the Ordnance, and created Earl Marshal of England. Essex was now at the height of his good fortune. He held every honour and office that a courtier could covet; young men who sought advancement rather paid their court to him in preference to the Secretary of State; he was beloved by the mob; whilst the Puritans regarded him as the successor to the Earl of Leicester, and as their natural protector. So rapid an elevation to the highest honours had its usual consequences. Essex, naturally haughty, became arrogant and domineering; he dictated to all who crossed his path, and declined to be interfered with; even to the Queen he was at times most offensive, and spoke in tones which would have cost another man his head. His pride was now to receive a severe lesson. At a meeting of a few members of the Council a discussion arose between Elizabeth and the favourite as to the choice of some fit and able person to superintend the affairs of Ireland, which were as usual in a turbulent and unsatisfactory condition. The Queen gave her voice in favour of Sir William Knollys; Essex, on the contrary, voted for Sir George Carew. Hating dictation as much as her favourite, Elizabeth instructed Sir Robert Cecil to appoint Knollys to the post; whereupon Essex, forgetful of his loyalty as a subject and his manners as a gentleman, shrugged his shoulders and turned his back contemptuously upon his sovereign. Such conduct, and especially before spectators, Elizabeth declined to overlook; she walked up to the favourite, soundly boxed his ears, and bade him, in words very significant of the coarseness of her age, “Go and be hanged!" Blind with passion, Essex clapped his hand to his sword, and with a great oath swore that "he never would pardon so gross an affront, no, not even from Henry the Eighth," and without another word passed through the doors and quitted the Court. 1 Weeks sped on, and still Essex, sullen and vindictive, refused to make apology for his conduct, preferring to shut himself up in rigid seclusion. The Queen, after her first burst of anger, had keenly regretted the insult she had put upon her favourite; yet she felt that the dignity of the Crown must be maintained, and Essex be the one to sue for pardon. Let him, she said, but express sorrow for his rudeness, and he would not find her cruel. The friends of Essex now interfered, and advised him to be contrite and penitent. Sir Henry Ley wrote to him, and tried to pour oil on the troubled waters. "Your honour," he said, "is more dear to you than your life. Yet consider that she is your sovereign, whom you may not treat upon equal conditions. . . . Your wrongs may be greater than you can well digest, but consider how great she is, and how willing to be conquered; what advantage you have in yielding when you are wronged, and what disadvantage by facing her on whose favour you rely; how strong you will make your enemies, and how weak your friends; how provoked patience may turn to fury, and delayed anger to hatred. Only whatever peace you make, use no means but yourself; it will be more honourable to you and more acceptable to her." The Lord Keeper Egerton expressed himself to the same effect. "I offer," he wrote, "loving advice, as bystanders often see more clearly than people do themselves in their own causes. 1 State Papers, Domestic, edited by Mrs. Green, [Aug. ?] 1598. 2 Ibid. 2 |